Unintended
by Scraggles
Summary: Lightning Farron at her worst - short on work and swamped with time, the aches and pains from nights of slow self-destruction scratching at the back of her skull with familiar, fuzzy little reminders of her misdeeds. Allusions to sex, alcohol, and squick.
1. Chapter 1

**kk, Hi all. Just clarifying, this is something old that I managed to finish out of pure writers block, not something I intended to relate to Lightning at all, but it just happened and I'm reasonably satisfied with it, so I hope you will be too.**

**Enjoy!

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When you're lost in this world and you don't know what else to do, dip your tongue in the poison. When you're searching for something you think you'll never find, fall into the bottle and leave the cork behind you. When you know you can't escape the truth, look at what you've become in disgust and drown yourself again, and when you don't think you can breathe much more and it's closing time, pick yourself up off of the counter and sleep with your clothes on.

When you're sitting at home and you hear the answer machine running, tell your sister to shut up and try to make a family without your help. Then when her husband calls you back and asks if you're okay, hang up the phone and tell yourself you'll explain later. Over and over, again and again; this is your life – never mind the rest of the world, but when the bartender seems to understand, try to find a bed with someone else and hope for the best. Whether you fail or not, well, that's up to fate.

"Ugh," Lightning groaned, rolling over in the covers as her alarm went off. "Shut up you stupid piece of shit," she ordered, as if the pathetic excuse for a command would silence the device, and in reality, it should have. However, it seemed that voice command was not going to be her forte this horrible, awful morning. She smacked the thing until it went silent, growling.

She sighed, burying her face into her pillow as light filtered in through her window. Finally, when the frustration proved too much, she managed to drag herself out of bed and towards the bathroom to start her morning ritual: stripping out of her clothes and taking a nice, long, sobering shower. Then, maybe she'd be able to look at herself in the mirror without wanting to cry and tear her hair out. Though, one fact stood in the way of that possibility. As she brushed the fur from her teeth, groping for the sweat coated articles of cloth she expected to find clinging to her skin, she gasped. Underneath her calm, not-so-collected facade, she was completely and undisputedly naked.

"No," she murmured, "Don't tell me I-" she gulped, looking back to the mirror. "What have I gotten myself into?"

She looked horrible, pale and already on the verge of tears, porcelain skin marred by red splotches and dark circles under her eyes. How did it come to this? What had she done the night before? She ran a hand through her hair, bringing it back to her lips. It reeked of alcohol. Really, what had she done last night?

As she pondered that thought, the phone began to ring. No doubt, it was Snow calling to tell her she was going to be late for work again. It'd been nearly a month since she'd quit, and still he hadn't given up. She took a step back, sighing. "Damnit. Why can't you people just leave me alone?" She let it go to the answering machine, turning on the faucet and splashing her face until the recording came on, same as always.

"_Hello, you've reached Lightning Farron. I'm not here right now, and quite frankly wouldn't answer you if I were, but if you absolutely have to bother me, please don't leave a message after the beep. I'll just delete it anyway,"_ her voice played out, each word enunciated with complete and utter disinterest. The machine beeped, and swapped over to the call.

"_Yo, sis," _Lightning sighed – Snow,_ "Just callin' to remind you to get ready for work again, like always. Serah says you haven't been in a while, but I know you. No way in hell would you miss out on a chance to work. I bet you've been sneaking out at night on patrol and stuff," _he said, naïvely.

_You really think you know me, don't you Snow? . . Idiot, _she thought, grimacing, _Now _this_ is exactly why I didn't approve of you marrying my sister._

It was the same every morning. She wished that messages these days came with size limits. He continued,_ "Anyway, I wanted to ask you about what you would like for your birthday. Serah and I thought that we'd have another one for you, you know, just to make up for the last one, now that we have the money and all. I thought we'd get you another knife, but-" _She exhaled rather loudly, looking in the direction of the thing. He was _really_ intent on trying her patience this morning, wasn't he? Didn't he know she had better things to do? Like, say, getting drunk, or sulking?

"Will you just shut the hell up and get to the point already?" she grunted, backing up to get a good view of it. When he didn't, she sighed, making a move to shut the thing off. As soon as she hit the doorway, she stopped dead.

There, in her bed – someone was there. Black tendrils of silk pooled near the headboard, sprawling out over the covers, a tanned hand clutching the pillow, almost groping for something, it seemed. Then it dawned on her. That hand was groping for _her._

"It can't be," her breath hitched. She gulped, no longer aware of the answering machine and it's woes. She dashed to the tangled mass of blankets, tearing through them with an urgent delicacy to her manners as she desperately tried to find what is was she was searching for, and when she found it, there was only one word that came to her mind.

"Fang!" she cried out, hovering over the woman's form as a wave of adrenaline fueled ecstasy hit her, letting her hands brush against that wonderful, soft skin of hers, but something was wrong.

"Lightning." The woman mumbled, flipping over with a confused expression on her face. She was beautiful, but something was wrong indeed.

It was . . "Lebreau."

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**Okay, not exactly the best ficlet ever, but eh, I felt like doing something with a bit of an unhappy ending for once.**

**fin, for now. R&R plox!  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all, just another writer's block induced chapter that I wrote between exams. Enjoy!

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"Get out." She sat above the other woman like a mountain, stark naked, like a volcano looming over a snowy forest in the thick of winter, fuming, threatening to erupt at any moment. The unbridled fury in her voice was rapt with confusion and bitterness, bordering hatred, it seemed.

"Lightning," Lebreau breathed a near inaudible plea, bewildered and frightened, like an orphaned child, lost and alone in the labyrinth of a behemoth. Her mouth hung just slightly open, the sheets' white valleys peeking through the shadows splayed about her in long, looping pools, the spindly fibers mingling beneath her shaky breaths, hers, and her aggressor's. "Please?" She asked, staring into the woman's deep, azure eyes, both darkened with anger, perhaps fear as well, but Lightning would have none of that.

"Why are you here?" she growled, boring holes into her prey's skull with those angry eyes. There was no room for sympathy in the life of a soldier - an ex soldier - but even as she led herself to believe that, the creeping feeling lodged in her stomach grew that much stronger. Her insides burned with apprehension, churning with anxiety, clawing for oxygen as she held breath she didn't know she had within her. She already knew the answer.

If she hadn't looked hurt before, she certainly did now. "Y- You mean you don't remember?" she asked, timid. Her voice was small, quiet. She shrank back into the covers a bit, the action doing nothing to conceal her from Lightning's harsh gaze, staring her down as if she'd boil into a puddle of bubbling ooze if she looked any harder.

So it hadn't been a dream after all. She lessened her grip on the other woman's wrists, softening a bit as she begged herself not to cry. Why couldn't it have been Fang? Really, why couldn't it have been? Why? She wondered, listening as the answer machine ran on and on, Snow still jabbering about things in her life she wished she still cared about, hearing the alarm clock starting up again as it lay in pieces on the floor, sounding out its last moments of life, and all the while, she sat atop the woman like a mountain, and that was the day it all came crashing down.

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"I'm sorry," she said, fingers curled around the half-broken handle of a ceramic coffee cup, now lifted in mid-sip. She'd smashed it on Snow's head a week earlier, and quite frankly was surprised it still held together.

Lebreau sat across from her, looking at her arms - yellow blotches, where those fingers had once been. "It's alright," she assured, "Serah's been telling me that you were a little off after . . what happened." She looked up to meet her eyes, leaning forward against the countertop that separated them. She sighed, "Really, it should be me apologizing."

Lightning blinked and glanced from the cup she'd just set down, gasping lightly. The question on her mind was impossible to miss.

She continued, looking back down - no one liked to be stared at - to her nails as they tapped against the synthetic wood grain. "I shouldn't have surprised you like that," she admitted, frowning a little, "I know I should've left before you woke up, but I - I got so tired of going home to Maqui and Yuj and pretending like nothing ever happened between us back at the bar and then talking to Snow and Gadot every day like I still don't know you. It just didn't feel right, you know?" She ran a hand through her hair, "I guess I should've gone while I had the chance. I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble."

Lightning stared at her mug for a moment, furrowing her brow. "No, it's fine," she mumbled, tangling her own fingers into her pink locks. "Wait," she said, now looking at her again, pondering, "You mean this has happened more than once?" Her eyes lit up with curiosity, and perhaps more. Lebreau nodded, frowning a bit. She chewed her lip for a moment, faltering under the older woman's gaze as another moment passed.

"Lightning?" she asked, trying not to glance away too many times before the pinkette's eyes flicked back to her cup.

"Nn?" she looked back up, eyebrows raised.

She breathed in, looking to the floor again as she let it out. "I - I think I should go," she said, turning to leave.

"Wait," she murmured, standing up and eyeing her form by the door as she sauntered over. Her voice was soft, reassuring, "I think you should stay for a while."

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**R&R plox. ;b**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter, also induced by my extreme cases of writers block and caffeine binging at 4 AM as I'm writing on the Art of the Upskirt. I get the feeling that this isn't good for my health. As usual, I'm pretty damn sure that it's not perfect. Find any errors? Please, don't hesitate to inform me. I was just notified about this week or so that I'd accidentally marked this as complete, haha, so yeah. I'm far from good at this sort of stuff. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

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"So wait – tell me, just how long have you been coming here?" Lightning asked, now sitting again at the humble breakfast bar that Serah had procured for her since she'd moved into her own apartment. _'A house is not a home without a place to feed your own,' _she'd said, and that very morning, the girl had Snow call a contractor to have it put in. The men who came and went looked at her like she was crazy. Serah was always a fan of old-fashioned things like that... So was Fang. So was she. Lightning frowned. She'd never understood why she was so fond of anything that even remotely reminded her of that woman.

Lebreau crossed her legs in her seat, sighing. "It's been a while now," she confessed, eyes scarcely grazing the countertop as she leaned forward, resting on her elbows. She glanced back up to Lightning, who, to her surprise, was neither angry at her nor in the process of downing more vodka spiked coffee. "You remember the time Snow dragged you all down to the cafe in New Bodhum for our reunion party after he came back from his honeymoon with Serah?" she asked.

Lightning nodded, cringing a bit. _Yes, I remember that damned party, celebrating a reunion without the two people who made it all possible in the first place, _she mentally added, no longer looking at Lebreau, but grimacing at the memory. _Worst party ever._

"_Hey sis!" _Snow had yelled, having since nearly beaten down her door at some godforsaken hour of the mid-noon and rapped, tapped, and slapped on every window she had, regardless of where they were and the state of the shades behind them – closed or not.

"_Go away," _she'd mumbled, and was tempted to scream, but after she saw Serah's tiny form standing beside him outside on the porch, smiling at her through the little peephole, she'd decided against it. Grudgingly, she popped over the latch and let the door swing open as Snow and Serah greeted her, inviting themselves into her home.

Serah was smiling wide, beaming. Snow mirrored her, still in the doorway, looking at her with those eyes. It was obvious that he was intent on getting something out of her, so Lightning had made no move to shoo him off. She knew that doing so would upset her sister anyway. She had to put a good face on for the girl, regardless of how much she still detested the oaf.

In the end, she'd wound up going with them down to the beach and sitting in the makeshift cafe-bar set up by NORA until sunset – almost an entire day, drinking her life away, and of course, chatting Lebreau up on her way down into the gutter. She'd been in the bottle ever since.

"Lightning?" Lebreau looked up to her as she stared over the rim of her cup and into the black liquid that it would otherwise conceal, had she been at another angle.

She jerked up, startled, "Hn? Oh, yeah. I remember that day." She scrunched her face up a bit, still thinking back to how she'd started on her fall down the drunken rabbit hole.

"Are you alright?" she asked, despite the evidence to the contrary.

Lightning grumbled a bit in complaint before letting out a breath – resignation. "I guess you could say that," she mumbled, her voice near a whisper. She raised the cup to her lips, draining the contents in one fluid motion. "More coffee?" she asked, tapping it against the table for emphasis, half poised to stand up and fetch the pint sized dispenser, an instant coffee maker, complete with a filter, water-jet, flavor modification module, and a rather diminutive pot in the middle for good measure.

Lebreau nodded hesitantly. She'd always loved luxury, but she didn't want to trouble the soldier any more than she already had. "That'd be nice," she said, bowing her head slightly, before realizing that Lightning was actually going to have to make it. "I'll get it if you want, you know," she offered, fretting. She looked to the pinkette anxiously, watching as she swayed back and forth, balancing against the bar.

Lightning merely shook her head, scooting around the end of the table and into the small kitchen with relative ease, given her state. She took a small packet out of a drawer, popping the top off of the dispenser and ripping a hole in the plastic, just large enough for pouring into the goblet-like contraption. As soon as the contents of the bag were exhausted, her hand slammed down on the flimsy lid, leaving the thing to work. Satisfied that the machine had started, she leaned against the bar.

"It shouldn't be too long now. Don't worry about it too much," she said dismissively, tapping the top of the dispenser, "It's my job as the host to accommodate you, regardless of how either one of us feels about it."

"I see." Lebreau sighed, eyes downcast. Lightning's brow knitted with concern. Perhaps that last sentence could've been kept to herself, she thought. Looking to the woman seated at the counter, she kneaded her brow. Just once, could she go without causing people pain? The sound of the coffee maker interrupted her brooding with a loud beep, startling her.

"Ah!" she squeaked, jumping as the hand she'd rested on the counter flew up around her chest, sending her cup crashing to the floor. The sudden commotion nearly jolted Lebreau out of her seat.

She whipped around, gasping. "Lightning, are you alright?" Her eyes flicked from the cup to the pinkette and back again. "What happened?" she asked, though the answer was quite obvious.

Lightning lowered her arms and bent over to pick up the cup, still breathing heavily. "It's fine," she said, "I was just thinking. Nothing really happened there." She held the cup to the light, inspecting it for chips and cracks, aside from the piece of handle she'd just realized she'd stepped on.

She cracked a wan smile, _Guess you flew off the handle too, huh? _She huffed, fingering the chalky gashes where the severed ceramic fragments had once been attached. She sat the cup down by the dispenser and picked up the remains of the handle, leaving them on the counter. Fixing it could wait until later, she supposed.

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The rest of the day had passed by relatively quickly for Lightning. She lay in her bed, watching the room grow darker as the clock neared seven. Lebreau had left shortly after five or so, she recalled, but not before giving her a kiss on the cheek, which Lightning found to be extremely uncomfortable. The only people who ever kissed her had been her mother, who was long dead, so far back that she could barely remember, Serah, when she was little, barely old enough to crash a velocycle, Vanille, once, when she'd gotten her moogle plushie back from that flock of ceratosaurs running around in Oerba on their first day back, and Fang, after she'd found out about the ordeal that Lightning went through to get it for her. Though, the last one, she remembered, was the most painful to think about. She sighed. How did it come to this?

She wiped a tear from her cheek, flopping over on to her stomach and burying her face into the covers as sobs wracked her already aching body. She wished she had the energy to get up and drink herself to unconsciousness. She wished she could just go back in time and sleep through her entire life. She wished she could have just listened to Sergeant Amodar and stayed out of all that Pulse business in the first place. Most of all, she wished someone would have just swept her away. Her head shot up from the blankets; she heard knocks at the door.

"Damnit," she cursed, ruffling her near matted locks of hair as she rolled out of the bed unceremoniously, half nude. "Damned bastards don't know when to leave me alone." She shrugged into a shirt and tugged on a pair of mismatching shorts and began stumbling through the hallway that led into her kitchen and to the front door. She peered through the peephole, groaning; the porch was black. "Just a second," she said loudly, hand flicking the light switch to her left. She peered back into the hole. Nothing happened. The light must've blew out again, she thought.

She sighed and went to the counter to grab her survival knife. No sense in being unprepared in the event that she would actually need it, she mused, reaching for the door handle and unlatching the bolt. "Hello?" she greeted to the darkness, the figure in front of her not having been revealed by the light spilling from the threshold. Her hand clenched the knife, ready for action.

"Hi, Light," a small voice greeted in return. The person revealed themselves, stepping out of Lightning's shadow in the doorway. It was Serah. She rarely called her 'Claire' anymore, since she'd moved out; if she did, she knew that Snow would pick it up, and Lightning wouldn't be too pleased about that. She told her so, so as not to make it seem like she was being impersonal or anything.

Lightning softened a bit, sliding the knife into her waistband before the little girl could see. "Hi, Serah," she said, returning the favor and opening the door more fully. "Where's Snow?" she asked, looking around for signs of him. Seeing Serah without Snow was almost unheard of, these days. She could see the fading lights of a NORA velocycle parked in her driveway, shutting off gradually. Evidently, it'd been idling for a while.

"He didn't come," Serah answered simply, slipping under Lightning's arm and tossing her keys onto the counter, next to where the knife had been. Her pink locks bounced as she turned to face her sister again, watching the woman close the door behind her, eyebrows raised for a brief second.

"Oh," she said, exhaling. "Why did you come here?" She looked up to her younger sister's sparkly eyes, wondering. The light interrogation didn't seem to have much of an effect on her mood. It was a bit of a custom between them, really.

Serah smiled at her for a moment. "I came to see my big sister. Why else would I be here?" she said, not giving her the time to answer. She continued, figuring that Lightning would probably want an explanation, "Snow is having the house fumigated because of another one of Maqui's incidents." Her brow creased for a moment as she debated on whether or not to elaborate. The questioning look on her sister's face told her otherwise. She went on, "Originally, we were both planning on staying with you for the weekend, but at the last minute, Lebreau showed up at our house and he decided that it'd be a good time for us to spend some one on one time together while they patched up some stuff together. Is that alright with you?" she asked, hopeful.

"Lebreau?" Lightning wondered aloud, chewing her cheek in thought. She snapped back to reality, and more importantly, the question at hand. "Oh, erm.. Sure." She _eeped_ a bit as a pair of dainty arms wrapped around her torso, feeling her sister's form press into her. She'd have to get used to that. It'd been a while since anyone had thought to hug her. The sensation felt strange, foreign even, but it was welcome.

"Thanks, Claire," Serah whispered into her sister's chest, "It means a lot."

"So do you," Lightning found herself saying as she returned the embrace, "Is there anything outside that you need to unpack?"

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**To be continued, I most certainly hope.**

**Apologies for the cliff hanger there. I ran out of juice, and this chapter is already as long as the two chapters combined anyway. I figured I'd leave it where it stands now before I ended up with some 8000 something odd word thing that you'd all be too tired of scrolling to finish reading, haha.**

**Cheers.  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all. This chapter is written as a bit of an apology and a stab at a request I have going on. As for the apology, well, I haven't been so good about getting back to people lately, and as for the request, I'll let you figure out what all that was about when you read. Anyway, I'm sorry to anyone I haven't responded to lately and I hope you enjoy the chapter. ;b**

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Lightning stared out the window of her bedroom, looking into the darkness that would have been invisible, if not for the shades having been drawn back. Serah had only been over for a few hours and already, she was snoozing soundly in the bed, dreaming. Snow had called earlier to check on her, right after the girl fell asleep. Luckily, Lightning was close enough to the phone to answer it before it woke her. Snow was just as surprised as she was.

"_Light? You answered my call?" _He'd said, as if he couldn't believe his ears. She was glad. It meant that she wouldn't have to feel angry at him for once in her life, if only for a few brief moments. The thought brought a wry chuckle to her lips. She indulged it, though only for the sake of sarcasm.

She'd responded with a huff, _"Don't get used to it."_

He'd sounded relieved. He let out a breath. _"So how's Serah?" _he'd asked. She knew it was coming. Snow was always predictable. She'd probably been on his mind all day.

At that, she'd glanced over to the girl, smiling despite herself at the sight of her sister's little chest bobbing up and down beneath the covers peacefully. _"Asleep," _she'd replied, _"She's just fine."_

"_Oh," _was Snow's response. What? Had he expected her to just up and ask her how she felt? Or better yet, have her wake the poor thing up so he could talk to her? She wondered. For some reason or another, the thought didn't anger her as much as she'd expected. Sure, she was irritated, but at least she found it amusing, she supposed. About a minute passed between them before Snow said anything else. _"You know," _he sighed, _"Lebreau came over today-"_

"_I know," _she'd interrupted, _"Serah told me."_

With that realization, he'd sighed again, a heavy exhale to signal her something. He had a point to make, she guessed. _"She told me to give you a message," _he'd finally said, waiting on Lightning's approval before continuing. She could almost feel the air souring, becoming more awkward by the second.

"_Yeah?"_ Lightning had inquired, impatient. She'd wanted to tell him to spit it out already, but she figured that it wouldn't have been the best time.

He'd let out another breath, and it seemed that he'd been pausing throughout their interactions the entire time to find the words to say. Lightning knew that he had to have been; there wasn't any other reason for this sprawling drivel, unless he really was as stupid as she'd been praying he'd be. Though, she'd only recalled because, as she was stepping into the bathroom, he'd stopped mid-sentence. What he'd said was, _"She left because . . because," _and he'd left it at that, the silence that followed afterward being a tell-tale sign of resignation. As he'd confessed, there were no words to describe why she'd left. She just did it, and that fact alone was bewildering in its own right.

Needless to say, she'd hung up on him and he hadn't called back. She sighed, turning back to her sister, lying in the twisted blankets where Lebreau had been when the cursed blackness had dared to cast its omnipresent shrouds over her, when she'd mistaken that poor girl for her beloved. It was going to be a long night.

Why hadn't she noticed before? She wondered, slipping into the covers next to her sister, who was plainly visible, where Lebreau had not been. She looked over Serah's small form, the half-mussed mop of hair atop her head, ruffled from sleep, not unlike her own, the small mound where the blankets bunched up and flattened out again, shadowing her shoulder, and yet remaining aloof, hanging over her like a wilted flower, the little fingers, mini representations of her slender, calloused digits, curled around the edge of her pillow, clutching it loosely. She was cute, beautiful even, Lightning thought to herself. She wondered if she'd ever looked like that – placid and dainty, almost . . like Vanille, and with that thought, came misery. Whenever there was Vanille, there was always Fang, she remembered. She pushed the thought away, as soon as it entered her head. There wasn't any sense in torturing herself, she reasoned. Though, each time she'd manage to rid her mind of it, it came back.

_There never was a Vanille without Fang, _her conscience repeated, _even when there was no Fang. They were always together, even when they were so far apart._

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She'd always been jealous of Vanille, in a way. She'd hated herself for it too, being envious of such a sweet little soul like her. There was no one else to hate, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise. Even Snow, with his blithering about heroics and ridiculously obnoxious levels of optimism, not to mention testosterone. That wasn't to say that she didn't hate him now. If only he'd died, none of her problems would exist; she wouldn't have to hate him, or anyone, for that matter.

_If only we'd all died, _she caught herself thinking, now shaking, as the lights dimmed of their own accord. Tears pricked at her eyes as she shook, silent sobs wracking her body. She turned away from her sister, clinging to the pathetic lump of sheets beneath her hot, wet, aching face as her chest heaved sporadically. Her body was on fire, and she couldn't put it out. Serah stirred next to her and she stilled herself, sniffling.

"Lightning?" she called out tentatively, touching her shoulder.

"Nn?" she responded, turning her head towards the girl. Her cheeks were stained red with exertion. The edge in her gaze was wasn't where it should have been.

Serah looked at her curiously. "What's wrong?" she asked. The dull look of hurt in Lightning's eyes meant that it had to be complicated, whatever it was.

Lightning remained silent, not protesting when her sister came closer, wrapping those dainty little arms of hers around her middle. She blushed; she felt vulnerable, as vulnerable as she had when Fang had still been with her. That fact simply pushed the tears she was holding harder. She gasped.

_No, I shouldn't be thinking about Fang when Serah's trying to comfort me, _she fretted, blushing more hotly than before. It wasn't helping, she realized, as Serah's face pressed flush into her neck and warm breath teased its way past her ear, making her all the redder. Somewhere along the line, the girl's name slipped from her lips.

"Light?" Her sister's voice washed over her like a siren's song, near entrancing. She shivered as another wave of breath brushed her skin ever so slightly.

"Nn?" was her response, again, as she attempted to huddle into herself to get away from that horrible, torturous brushing.

It did no good, as Serah merely snuggled closer, asking in a soft, half-whisper, "Are you okay?"

Lightning flinched as she felt a finger begin to trace into her stomach in the silence that followed, knowing it wasn't hers. She placed a hand over Serah's clasping it lightly. The finger stopped moving, and she lifted it away, turning around to face her sister. She watched as Serah's breathing hitched for a moment, seeing her face. Lightning's eyes dipped low, and she blinked again. She still hadn't let go of her hand. Before either of them knew what happened, Lightning lurched forward.

As she pulled away, she whispered, "No."

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**To be continued, I hope...**

**I wrote this entire chapter while listening to Follow the Cops Back Home, by Placebo. Thanks to one of my subscribers for pointing it out for me. ;b  
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**Cheers! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello all. Just another update here. I'd like to apologize for making you all wait so long, but internet problems and the like, coupled with data backup catastrophes, sickness, and writers block had nearly brought my writing process to a halt. I'm glad I have some other material to get me back to writing again though. Big thanks to all you new writers out there! - My fans too! I love you guys (and girls especially, j/k, lol) .. But anyway, to the piece here. I'm not so in love with this one. It really makes me want to smack myself in the face towards the end - so rough and unpolished! And I wanted to put more Lebreau lovin' in there! Damn me and my horrible forgetful tendencies! D: But I suppose it's as good as it's going to get. So there you are, Chapter Five, complete! Any mistakes, feel free to show me! I'll gladly revise it a thousand times, really. I think it's that bad! Don't let me scare you off though. **

**Enjoy!**

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**"Serah." Lightning's breath came as a whisper. Her sister's pale blue eyes stared back at her, unfazed. Though, rather, it was more as if she stared into her, rather than at her. She envied Serah, her and those sure, unshakeable pools of blue.

Lightning hadn't kissed anyone, not anyone that she remembered – Fang excluded... No, that was a dream, she reminded herself. She'd kissed Lebreau too, on the cheek, but that was different. Never had she recalled a time when she was more guilty of tainting a relationship so. Tainted, yes, that was what she had done, and regretted it. She couldn't bear to look Serah in those eyes of hers, not after that, and instead found her own eyes resting on those undeniably delectable lips she had.

_Stop,_ she begged herself, hissing as she tore her gaze away from the wonderful, supple patches of silk that perched themselves in a soft, half-pucker above Serah's chin, the pinkened expanses pursing in preparation for another half-parted meeting, _It's sinful._

_'Since when have you cared about sin?' _Her consciousness rebutted callously. She refused to answer, and she leaned in again, but froze in her tracks as those aquatic orbs taunted her with their entrancing embrace.

Only a brief few moments had passed since she'd felt those glossy, pink lips upon her own, and already she could see how a man like Snow could appreciate such a girl so. As delicate as she was, she was practically irresistible - unlike herself, Lightning thought. Serah was countless things that she was not: soft, gentle, frail, beautiful, treasured, subtle, sweet, delectable, a pleasure to taste - like chocolate.. _No._ She paused before she could think any more on the subject, rolling out of the rumpled bedsheets. Serah's slender, fine fingers trailed the fringe of her waistband as the girl wondered what she'd done wrong, calling after her, but Lightning would not answer.

Without so much as a look back, Lightning strode into the dimly lit bathroom, hands clumsily grasping for the faucet's sleek handle, its supple shape shining like the silky tresses that Snow had come to hold so dear even in his time on Cocoon. Icy water pooled between her palms in the few seconds she didn't spend splashing her face with it.

What of Lebreau? She silently wondered. What of her, indeed. Did not her locks, too, feel soft and sleek and airy, like the clouds against the moon? Did Lightning's own not shimmer in the sunlight as well? Did not Fang's also glint like the morning dew under the burgeoning rays of sunrise? Serah's? Were they one and the same?

A final splash, and her hands withdrew from the faucet's cold, unfeeling torrent as she gazed upon her form in the mirror, once pale features blanketed in a rush of pink. She'd just kissed her sister, she thought, and with that, the world went black.

* * *

"Lightning?" A soft voice called out into the vague blackness that was reality. "Lightning?" It repeated again, reverberating, "Claire?" It – she, Lightning recognized, knew her name. She knew that much, a dull pain registering in her mind, not unlike the incessant throbbing of a migraine, or possibly something more gruesome. That was always a possibility. The warm wetness beneath her head would stand for that.

"Claire!" the girl cried out again as the dark horizon gave way before Lightning's creaking eyelids, slipping into the painful, white hot glare of light, blurred figures slowly coming into view. The woman winced as Serah's form wavered above her, shadowing her eyes from the light glare reflecting from the sickly pallor sidled across her cheekbones. Lightning's attention flicked to the forms behind her, squinting in narrow scrutiny as they too became visible. Her teeth bared beneath her lips in a grimace. _Snow._

The blonde peered over Serah's shoulder, thick brows dipping, arching, and dipping together again in confusion beneath his beanie. He mumbled something to the person, scantily clad in black, beside him as they all leaned over her, as if speculating the very fact that she was capable of being semi-conscious.

"Great, just what I didn't need to wake up to," she managed to grumble, attempting to sit up. She instantly recoiled from the action, grunting in pain. Her back _hurt._

Snow gawked. "Geez Light, you alright?" he asked hurriedly, his monstrous hand dwarfing Serah's forearm effortlessly as he leaned forward.

She had the urge to spout, 'Of course I'm not alright, you moron! I almost slept with your wife!' She refrained, of course. Such an admittance would be awkward, especially now that she'd recognized Lebreau to be in the room, who she'd more than likely slept with already – several times to be more politically correct, and to top that off, both were attractive _and _connected to Snow by some cruel, unchangeable chain of fate...

_Wait.. Did I just think of my sister as attractive?_

She didn't respond, slamming her head back against the floor, or rather, into Serah's palm. That explained the wetness - sweat. Snow scratched his head, exhaling heavily, "Uh, I'll take that as a no." Serah cast a warding glance his way, unfazed from the sandwiching of her knuckles between skull and floorboard, a rare instance in both cases, and he wisely stood up, making room for Lebreau. "Er," he stuttered, "I think I'll just go make some coffee." He quickly went out of the room, being careful not to knock anything over or make too many loud noises, which was unheard of, considering his unbelievably large, clumsy feet.

"Lightning?" Serah whispered as the ogre lumbered down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"Light?" Lebreau echoed on Serah's right. Strands of hair stuck to her forehead and face in lumps, forming pale ruts between the rows of satiny hair and sweat. As she looked over, Lightning noticed the same about Serah, and most notably, herself. She shivered. Had it been this cold before? Had she been this tired? She could just barely sense her hands being squeezed as she laid back to stare at the ceiling for just a bit longer. Then, the world returned to black again.

* * *

To have and to hold.. To hold and to have. Weren't they the same thing? Lightning wondered this as she lay in bed, perspiring in a muddle of blankets, cotton-like hair clinging even more profusely to her face than before. As she opened her eyes, she realized that she was no longer in her own home, but in Serah's. With that, she groaned. This was not where she wanted to be. She sighed, flipping on her stomach and lay there silently for a few moments before she heard footsteps approaching – loud ones, as well as her own involuntary grumbling accompanying it shortly afterward.

"You feelin' alright?" The question caught her off guard. Did Serah take some of Father's hormone pills again? And what about the accent? Was she drunk too? This was strange, to say the least.

"Huh?" she mumbled, not recognizing the voice, what with her head swimming the way it was. There was a shuffling across the room, and soon after, she felt the sensation of a warm, damp cloth being draped over the back of her neck, accompanied by pain from the enormous weight it added as whoever it was began to rub it back and forth. Then, it all made sense. "Snow?" Lightning gaped, flipping onto her back.

_Great, just who I need to be seeing on the one day out of the year that I can't get away from him.. Damnit._

The blonde smiled down as he hovered over her. "Hey there, sis," he replied, tucking a few strands of hair into the side of his morning bandana. She could still see a few of the longer, unruly tufts poking out of the knot in the back. He continued, "You gave us a scare back there; thought we'd take care of you here so you wouldn't wake up screaming about me breaking your stuff." He grinned sheepishly, asking, "How's the morning?"

As painful as it was, Lightning managed to ignore the question long enough to glare up at him, frowning. "You did _what?_" she asked, teeth clenching.

The man put his hands up in defense. "Nothing, nothing! Don't worry; I made sure that everything was locked up tight before we left so that wouldn't happen!" He said, surprised that she hadn't complained about his calling her 'sis' yet, and frankly he didn't want her to. His smile returned as she seemed to calm down again, despite her gaze being held squarely on his head.

She let out a breath, resting her head back against the pillow. "Everything?" she asked, looking at him critically.

He nodded and plucked the moist towel from behind her neck, flattening It on her forehead before it could make a wet patch on the pillow. "Yeah, I even had Maqui and Yuj go look after the house for you," he commented, cringing when she went rigid again. He panicked, adding, "Outside, of course, heh-heh.. Yeah." He scratched his head. The silence afterward went on for a few minutes before he went out for a moment. "Be right back," he called over his shoulder as he plodded off, barefoot.

She sighed. _Just what I need – Snow seeing me.. like __this. _Lightning cringed, burying the back of her head in the sheets. She could hear Snow bumbling about the rest of the house, opening cabinets and most likely breaking things. _Wouldn't be much of a surprise if the whole damn house fell down with him here, _she thought, chuckling. She was right; it wouldn't be surprising at all.

Another heavy exhale and she tossed onto her belly, flopping around several times before finally getting comfortable. A jolt of electricity arced over her spine as she reached upwards, clutching the feather pillow beneath her head tightly. Perhaps luck would grace her with another blissful blackout before he came back, she hoped.

Alas, her prayers went unanswered as Snow returned a few minutes later, settling down next to her and interrupting the ceiling scrutinizing session that she had been so enthralled with. She turned her head to face him, furrowing her brow when he gave a small smile in return. "Where's Serah?" she asked him as he slid further onto the bed, crushing an entire half of it under his massive frame.

The man stretched, folding his arms behind his head and looking to the ceiling as he formed his next words slowly, carefully. It would not be wise to upset Lightning in her condition, he reasoned. "Mm, she left with Lebreau earlier," he finally decided, "They went to the pharmacy to see if there was anything they could get you for.. Well, you know." He glanced over to the woman, who simply stared back at him, wide-eyed. When there was no response, he added, "It was Serah's idea. She wanted me to tell you not to worry because-"

Lightning interrupted him wish a sharp breath. "You mean to tell me you let Serah go with _her_ alone? On a Monday, no less?" she hissed, wincing imperceptibly at the many ways that _her_ could have been taken, despite the intense maternal instinct she felt. She had obviously meant to refer to Lebreau, she knew, but she had no idea how an idiot like Snow would see that. Surely, Lebreau was no stranger, by far, the opposite, but Lightning was aghast to how the man could not see just how terrible of an influence she was on her sister, and to how she didn't manage to realize just how hypocritical she was being until this very moment. She now stared at him in a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Really, Snow? Really?"

Snow shook his head rapidly, "No, no, you see," he explained, "Lebreau's driving. No way I'd let Serah take the front seat of our-" He corrected himself, growing more nervous, "Er, your air-bike," Snow said, "That's just asking for trouble, like you said." His eyes widened when she frowned.

Lightning's expression narrowed dangerously. "You touched my air-bike?" she rumbled, quite frightening, especially for a sick lady. Her gaze flashed a livid shade of green.

Snow gasped with a flush, searching for a way to right the wrongs he'd just implanted in their conversation. "Of course not!" He quickly answered her, sat up, and busied himself with adjusting the shades, shaking the bed. "I meant, the one you bought for us," he finished semi-frantically. He relaxed again, still pink in the face, but relieved that Lightning seemed to simmer down, no longer rigid as she had been before.

The woman pulled the sheets higher on her body as she recovered from the sudden tension, forgetting that she had been a split second away from tackling him. She was naked upon waking for the second time in a row, she realized, yet another reason for her to cover herself so. Snow seemed to have noticed this also, no doubt that he had known before and forgotten already, and promptly averted his gaze, now apparently very conscious of this fact.

"Snow?" Lightning questioned, oblivious to his sudden awkward posture as he hunched over, sitting on the edge of the bed. He jerked upright at the sound of his name, looking equally uncomfortable in his place across from her as she felt at the moment, not turning back to face her. "Are you alright?" She found herself asking, and wondering if she'd migrated to a new level of insanity, cringing. _Since when have I cared about this imbecile?_

The brute in question stiffened even further at the inquiry before answering, and even then, it was a shaky one at that. "Fine, fine!" He blurted, though it was obviously not so. Through peering around the huge bulk of his midriff, Lightning was able to see his arms clearly folded over his lap, pressing downward.

_Odd, _she thought, but she would leave it at that, hoping that whatever problems he was having would resolve themselves quickly. The last thing she needed was a blonde caretaker (nothing against them, just that he fit the stereotype fairly well) who was dumb _and_ mentally occupied with his own dilemmas, she reasoned. That would spell danger. Her brows knit, however, as he hastily removed himself from the bed and started off into the hall.

He had already gotten half-way down said hallway when it finally dawned on him. Thinking quickly, Snow retraced his steps back into the bedroom, still making all efforts to keep his hands over his groin, just long enough to share a brief bout of eye contact with her. "I'll be right back," he said, shakily, "I .. Um, I need to go to the bathroom." Whereby, he hurried out and back into the hall. Though, Lightning thought, this made no sense – the bathroom was connected to the bedroom, on her right. Why would he go left? That absolutely could not be right, she thought, pondering his behavior for a good minute and a half.

Then, it clicked – the stiffness after she'd tugged the covers up to herself, the flushed face, the jumpiness, the hands over the crotch, the bathroom, Etro forbid, the inability, or refusal, to distinguish left from right. As quickly as it had become befuddling, it was now extremely bewildering. There was only one explanation, and with it came utter horror. Snow was _aroused._ Her jaw hung slack at this realization, as if the sky were descending at an alarming rate, threatening to claim the life of Gran Pulse itself. All the while, she couldn't stop wondering, though the grave question on her mind, she already knew the answer to.

_What just happened?

* * *

_**To be continued, as fate would have it...**

**Reviews would be heavily appreciated! They give me the will and inspiration to keep writing! Really, no matter how small or trivial they may seem. Incidentally, thanks to all my readers, reviewers, favorite-ers, subscribers, and lurkers. I have you guys to look at when it comes to how far I've come in writing, really. It's a joy to entertain you all.**

**Hurgz and kisses,  
-your friendly neighborhood slashwriter, who enjoys the criticism of one very 'green' 'shiro', a ferret who I would gladly share my trousers with, and many others.. and who also just made a very shameless shoutout.. Also, fun fact: "Aoi" is the adjective for "green" in Japanese.**

**Honestly though, thanks guys (and girls, as seductive as you may or may not be). I'm eternally grateful for all the lurve here. ;3  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Kay all, figured it was time I teased you a bit with another chappie. Feel free to point out errors as always, and I'll respond to reviews or requests the next time I'm able to come to my father's house to get some work done.**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

_"You're a sweet one, you are,"_ she'd said, looking to the side as Vanille spun around with her plushie in the grasses of the meadow, the tattered thing's appendages dancing back and forth at different angles. The girl couldn't have been happier.

Lightning's brow furrowed as her hand rose to her chin, half closed, and she suddenly remembered to breathe. _"What?"_ she asked almost breathlessly, _"But how?"_ Her gaze went from Vanille's adorable antics to the sparkling, sunny image of goddess-like beauty before her and her heart had nearly skipped a beat.

A knowing smile, _"Oh you, don't think that I don't know how the great Lightning seemingly went missing around midnight last night,"_ she'd laughed, turning her head a bit, and the sun had hit her just right at that moment, Lightning gasping as she continued, _"Or that I didn't hear the unmistakable screech of undying several hours later, and your pathetic attempt at sneaking back into camp before sunrise."_

At this, Lightning had frowned, only succeeding in making Fang's laughter that much louder as the soldier crossed her arms.

_"Don't worry, Light, it wasn't me that caught that last part,"_ she'd said, smirking and giving her a punch in the arm, at which the soldier had softened up a bit.

A huff. _"You know, if that had been anyone else, I would have taken offense to that,"_ she remarked, smiling just a bit despite herself.

Fang saw this and chortled. _"And what then? You'd punch me out?"_ Another hearty laugh, _"Lightning, we both know you wouldn't. Everyone knows you love me, yeah?"_

Lightning huffed._ "Oh, get over yourself, Fang,"_ she'd said, rolling her eyes, but then refocusing. _"So if not you, who then?"_ she asked, brows arching.

The Pulsian stifled a chuckle half-heartedly and looked back to the meadow. _"Vanille, of course. Who else? Snow?"_ At this she gave in and began laughing again, _"I think not."_

Lightning had looked on soberly. _"I suppose you're right."_

_"Indeed,"_ she'd said in return. Fang turned back to her again as the giggles subsided, this time more seriously, _"You're a real sweetheart though, Light. You're gonna make a great catch for someone one day - I just hope it's the right someone."_

Lightning's eyes widened as she found herself caught in a surprising embrace, and that was when she'd done it. Just a little bit, a wet peck on the cheek, that was all, but that was all it took to make the soldier feel the warmest in the world.

Looking back on that day, it was hard to believe that she could even remember that moment, so far away, locked up in the depths of her mind, but it had come, and that was all that mattered. Thinking on what Fang had said, she could honestly say that she should have guessed Vanille would be the one to catch her coming home with the _gold_ that night. She had distinctly heard a giggle, she recalled, as she'd come into camp, tiptoeing over Hope, Sazh, and dear heavens, Snow. That was the hardest part, and she'd hopped over Vanille too, which was when the girlish laughter had occurred to her. Of course, she'd simply figured that it was the little tangelo's dreaming, and not the little fruit's spying on her. Though, it wasn't really considered spying, seeing as it was she that was the one sneaking around, and so she'd stepped over the muddle created by Vanille and Fang's ever intertwined bodies, as well as her own jealousy, and made her way back to the rock by which she had usually slept.

_Oh the inhumanity of it all._

And so the great Lightning Farron rose from the bed in which she had slept and walked through the relatively unfamiliar home to find the kitchen rapt with work and motion. As she peered groggily around the corner, Serah popped up.

"Need anything?" the girl asked cheerfully, startling the soldier.

Lightning took a deep breath, thinking. "Er, coffee would be nice," she said flatly. The beaming smile on her sister's face and the hug afterward only served to bewilder her sleepy self more.

"Coffee it is then," the small girl chirped as expected into the blanket that Lightning had brought with her to cover her nakedness. What the woman did not expect, however, was the last response. "I'll have Lebreau make some," she said chipperly.

"Lebreau?" Lightning questioned, feeling light headed.

Serah released her with a nod. "Busy morning, you know. I'll help you find some clothes," she offered.

"Erm, no thanks," the woman murmured, "I think I can handle it myself." That, of course, was a lie.

Her sister smiled, "Well, okay then. There are some of my clothes in the bedroom. You'll just have to look around for them a bit." And with that, she walked off into the kitchen, no doubt fetching Lebreau and reprimanding Snow for attempting to cook while she was gone.

_Serah's clothes?_ Lightning blanched.

* * *

Out of the closet and into the fire, so to speak; Lightning emerged from the bathroom and dressing room countless times before settling on a suitable outfit, suitable, of course, serving to say, 'a set of clothes not leaving four inches of bare belly, an inexplicably squeezed set of breasts, and a constant, annoying little all around-wedgie, complete with a nice full moon when the wearer is bent over,' or what Lightning would like to call the _G-string effect. _Somehow, she had the idea that Serah was intentionally trying to show off her 'hot sister' and her 'delicious bod' by not packing clothes for the day after. Surely she knew that Snow wouldn't dare let her leave in her condition, what with his hero/mother complex.

She stood up in her current outfit, a pink pair of shorts, which seemed to be Serah's favorites, as per the tattered edges, and a blue top, which also had seen better days, according to the paint splotches spattered around the front. With a sigh that said, 'Well, this is the best I can get, I suppose,' she left the mirror with her newly wet hair and walked into the bedroom to find someone who she couldn't quite recognize, setting a white cup on the dresser.

_My coffee, _she thought, furrowing her brow.

"Lebreau?" she said tentatively, not daring to expect the impossible.

And the figure jumped, nearly spilling the cup as she turned around, and of course, jumped again as the bright colors hit her and she recognized that no, it indeed was not Serah in those sprightly, happy, young colors. And so the stuttering began.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**Cheers, ciao, or however you'd have me say it. I'm out for now! And I promise, I'll try to finish the next chapter of the Upskirt _soon!_  
**


	7. Chapter 7

Apology for the long wait! I haven't had a chance to work in I don't know how long! D:

Also, if you recognize the flashback, yes, I did cut that out from a draft of this chapter that I was doing and pasted the goodies into "Distorted Perceptions," my little prompt bag, drabble encrusted thing. We cool? Oh, and to people I haven't managed to reply to your messages, I promise to answer very soon. I'm sort of in the middle of writing a report though; life is being a beeyatch to meh.

Enjoy! Errors, you say? Go ahead, show me! Don't be shy!

* * *

A clink. The cup fell to the ground as the raven haired woman stood there, open-mouthed in her appraisal of the pinkette. Lightning, however, apparently had no comprehension of the scene before her, other than the utter sense of terror at the possibility of having yet another brown stain tarnish the carpet, which apparently neither Serah nor Snow cared about since the advent of their marriage. She shuddered, remembering the events of the past few days; she'd kissed Serah, slept with Lebreau, and seen Snow's attempts at covering up his manhood, and Etro forbid, some of those, she was beginning to regret that she _hadn't_ regretted to begin with.

"Lebreau?" the soldier called out again tentatively, not sure whether she was being stared at or witnessing the second instance of human petrification she'd seen since the Purge. She inwardly shook her head; that was a bad thought. She could not permit herself to dwell on that, not with the thin figured, petite looking thing frozen in front of her.

The barmaid blinked, suddenly starting into motion. "Hnn?" A chew of the lip as she looked down to the spilled liquid below. "Oh, sorry about that." She picked the cup up, saying, "You just surprised me, is all." Her trembling hands spoke otherwise, and she self-consciously ran a hand through her hair, which was down, and not in its usual fixtures for the first time that anyone could have been able to recall.

Lightning's eyebrows peaked at this, one riding up slightly higher than the other one before being brought down again with a suggestive little wiggle. "I'm assuming you're not surprised very often, then?" she asked with just a hint of sarcasm lying beneath. She eyed the woman with a smirk, even as tired as she was.

The next response, she didn't catch, however, as Lebreau promptly exited the room and was replaced by Serah, and soon after, coffee – sweet, sweet coffee – whose even sweeter aroma filled her nostrils with stories of enchanting elves in some far off world, following her throughout the wild, battle stricken lands with helping hands, getting in the way of her plans at the most inopportune of times, forcing her to keep on her toes, commenting randomly on the most annoying things, acting in ways that could only be described as adorable, and peering in her shirt – no, looking up her skirt .. No, no, not that; not that at all. She refused to think of such.

"Claire?" Serah tested, startling the woman. She looked on concernedly, blinking at her red faced older sibling; the woman was in mid sip.

Lightning had to fight the urge to spray her sister with java as the little girl stood there, the smaller watching as the woman beat down the liquid that threatened to spew from her mouth and nose. "Hmm?" she managed to respond, clearing her throat. "Fighting the urge" was right. She'd just barely escaped taking a new meaning to "hot shower," she realized, as some of the liquid seeped into her trachea. With this had come a cough.

The smaller girl hurried to her side, laying a hand on the wheezing woman's back. "Are you alright?"

No answer.

* * *

Nearly two full days had come and gone since the passing of her relative sickness with no sign of Serah or Lebreau, and that was her point in planning so. It was plain in her very manner that she needed, required, a break; a resting period. Not only that, but she desired it. It was too much company lately – so many reminders of the real world intruding on her solace.

She hadn't had breakfast; she hadn't dared eat a thing. There was naught but dust in the cabinets, save shelves laden with nothing. Even the bugs had sense enough to vacate the premises; with no food to be seen, they knew that they were as fair game as anything else. In the past few days, Lightning had actually considered eating a fair number of the few insects that she found. The woman had known that she shouldn't have fed those croissants to Lebreau and Serah; now, there was nothing to cook, and surely, by the time Amodar and her co-workers would realize that she wasn't coming back to the Corps, the severance pay that she would receive would come far too late for her to manage buying anything.

She hadn't worked in nearly a month and six days, eighteen of those day being filled with drinking and frivolous spending, and another eighteen with daily reminders from Snow and Serah, coupled with slow, agonizing starvation, coffee, and apparently, a certain barmaid. She knew this, was quite aware as she steadily sipped on a portion of the remains from her last coffee ration, which in itself had been stealthily stashed away as none other than the last of the last. Thankfully, Snow, the buffoon, had secreted a packet or two away into her bags when they had sent her home; otherwise, there would not have been a 'last' to begin with. Lightning could not have that. Coffee was life. Life was coffee. Her very existence was dependent upon a beverage of saturated, ground beans. It was as if the balance between life and death hinged on hot water and expensive, roasted tree spawn.

Money was running low. She dreaded the day that she were to inevitably to run out of the stuff, it, and coffee. She had no other means of subsistence, other than charity rice and water. Hence, the cupboards were bare; Lightning Farron, under no circumstances, took charity to keep her living. If it was money, she'd take it, but food was another story. This, she hadn't let Serah, the idiot, or Lebreau catch on to, at least. Rather, she'd insisted on the opposite for quite a while now, despite the numerous voices in her head that urged, pleaded for her to acquire outside assistance. She needed money, food, and coffee. Nothing else material could fill the holes in her life.

Sighing, as her cup ran dry in mid swallow, she sat it on the counter again, looking to the small television in the living room across from her in her misery. There, the news raged on about the continual construction and restoration of Pulse, which she did _not_ care to hear about, lighting up the sparsely decorated, homey room; she'd known there was a reason why she'd never bothered to turn it on until now – useless piece of junk. On her right, opposite to the TV against the wall, was a small, comfortable couch, one which, at that moment, was calling her name.

Listlessly, she pushed away from the bar, groaning and stepping towards the thing. Within moments of curling up on the small, leathery cushions, she was fast asleep.

* * *

_"You can't live on nothing and expect to last forever," Fang had said, watching the soldier's form and its silhouette against the stone wall. Torrents of unrelenting rain made themselves seen and heard at the mouth of the cave, pounding against the steppe below. Lightning frowned._

_"You can't live on everything and expect it to last for long either," she spat coldly, shaking as she wrung out her wet locks. Vanille sat in a hunch behind her, watching with a worried stare._

_Fang sighed, giving up on that conversation entirely and changing the subject. "Why won't you let us help you?" she asked, running her hands through her hair. She wasn't surprised by the glare she received from this._

_Now the sigh was Lightning's. She grunted, slipping off a soaking boot and tossing it at the wall. A crumpled, white woolen sock clung to her pale skin afterward, water droplets shining along her shin as the second skin was too was peeled away. The same was repeated with the other leg. Now clad in black shorts and bra alone, back turned to the others, she spoke grimly. "I don't need your help," she grumbled, huddling up to herself away from the fire._

_"Lightning." Vanille exhaled, looking between the two. The woman's frustrated glance backward was enough to catch the forlorn look on the redhead's face, and yet, the girl did not notice this. She went on quietly, carefully, "If only you weren't living in your own little fantasies."_

"_What?" Lightning snapped, turning around. Her teeth clenched_.

_The child snapped up at this, alarmed. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!" she quickly amended, little arms guarding her face in little half fists, as well as shielding her teary eyes from the irritable lady._

* * *

After what had seemed mere minutes of slumber and dream, Lightning awoke to discover the sky darkened; hours upon hours had passed, light changing from the satsuma orange of mid-evening to the pupil black of night. She was reliving the same nightmare, as always. Lightning hated that black, the void it imposed upon her.

An incessant vibration had stirred her from her fitful sleep. Groaning, her fingers found their way to the source, crawling between two couch cushions to retrieve the offending object and bring the smooth pen of a communicator to her waiting ear. "Hello?" she tested upon opening the device, blinking. Without realizing, she had done exactly what she had meant to avoid doing – exacting revenge on her privacy, and silence as well.

A deep, silken drawl met her hearing, and she gasped at this. Lightning, the woman was instantaneously aware of everything, and not only that, but intensely aware of herself. Yet, she sank back into the plush, unenjoyable hump of leisure that had become her bed as that particular lilt failed to hit her and make its own heat take well known, secreted places under the deepest roots of her skin. The voice was Lebreau's, and heavy slurs blanketed her usual coy mannerisms.

The woman breathed heavily, stumbling through her words in a messy stupor. "Light?" she slurred, coughing, "Would you – would you mind if I asked, er.. Sum'tin?"

The stoic, calculating woman let out a labored sigh, inquiring, "Isn't that what you're doing now?" She was considerably more coherent, even in her half-sleep, as the barmaid took a second to respond. Lazily, a hand half-heartedly mangled strands of hair together on her shoulder, tangling and untangling. She awaited her answer with half a mind of patience.

"Er, yeah," the drunken woman mumbled with uncertainty, "but I .. I need you to come get me; I need a place to stay."

As disappointed and as dread laden as she was, the woman was astonished to find the words, "I'll be there, wherever you are," slipping from her mouth without so much as a second thought.

Then, as quickly as that, she was gathering her usual belongings, shoving limbs into fresh clothing, and starting her engine with cold, metallic keys, all to the sound of, "The cafe, where I am; I'm there, here, there, here, and there - outside."

* * *

Azure eyes scanned the ever so familiar beach front with vibes of deja vu swirling about a pool of already muddled perceptions.

"_I'm there, here, there, here, and there..."_

The sound was drugged, haunting.

"_I'll be there, wherever you are..."_

Had she really been so selfless – losing her touch? A low, spidering pit of anxiety festered in the knot that was her stomach, twisting and turning as she wove her way to the side through crowds and social circles, searching. Uneven waves crashed against the shore repetitively – New Bodhum Beach, the longest strip of sand since Bodhum itself, almost the same as its artificial predecessor. This did not matter to the woman, not until her current dilemma could be put behind her.

Out of the generic, shapeless faces she scrutinized with all of her might, finally and at last, one head of raven tresses stood out from the crowd. Skin, solid behind dancing ripples of cloth, the figure huddled in the white sand against the ocean spray and wind, auburn showing through the sunset as highlights to her long, illustrious locks. The ex-soldier's heart thrummed painful bursts in its mortal casing, fuzz clouding already blurred vision.

"Fang?" her befuddled lips sputtered without her noticing, and she approached cautiously, like a frightened animal to the embrace of a child; curious and afraid, she called out again, and was met with nothing. A side-step to the right, and the face beneath all that wonderful hair revealed its foreign canvas, hiding away the insides below. Her chest sank. "Oh, it's you," she mumbled, willing her pulse to cease its erratic behavior, or rather, to stop completely.

Lebreau again, slouching in half sleep and half exhaustion, she noted, as the woman chanced her gaze, eyes all but burnt into their sunken niches, darkened. Pathetic and without a chance at standing on her own, she pleaded weakly, "Help me?"

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**To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 8

Hi all, another update for ya. Some fluff and Flaire here. Tiny hints at Farroncest. I'm not sure where I'm going with these memory/dream sequences, or how I've managed to write them in omniscient, rather than limited. I figure it must add some sense of depth, however. If that confuses you, well, don't feel alone. Pardon my lack of enthusiasm and my lateness on the update; it was actually near completion a day or so, and I changed all of two sentences before I posted this, aside from a spelling mistake and a metaphor that I wanted to change. Sorry there.

Hope you enjoy, and as always, feel free to berate/point out mistakes. I don't have a beta.

* * *

_Lightning emerged from the water with grace, facing Fang, who approached from the greenery and grinned like the sly, seductive fox she was. The former quirked an eyebrow, watching as the other surveyed her from a relatively safe distance. The pinkette had been 'off' lately, and that was evident in the tense demeanor she'd been sporting around the campsite, not eating, sleeping, or speaking for long periods of time. It was almost as if she were fasting - reserving herself to atone for some impure deed._

_"Tch, figures," the former sergeant puffed, mild irritance cloaking the growing plethora of strange emotions flitting about her chest. She looked to Fang, who, deciding it safe to draw nearer, took a few steps forward and paused, letting her continue, "for you to peep at me uninvited." The trained soldier's head bobbed on the clear surface, water lapping at her chin as she stared at the blue clad Pulsian._

_Fang chuckled to herself, approaching the edge in an antagonizingly slow fashion before coming to a standstill. Her sari swayed to a stop behind her, dragging the ground as it hung loosely from her shoulder. "Easy there, hot stuff. I didn't come for a tussel," she purred. Lightning's eyes were lidded, drawn tight in scrutiny as she looked on._

_Vision narrowed. "Oh, what then? Come to give poor little Lightning a hug?" Her voice dropped low and husky, dripping with sarcasm and half-hearted seduction. It made her feel dirty, disgusting, sick - sick enough not to mind bathing in an equally disgusting, bacteria infested god-send from the heavens with no qualms or complaints. She kept her eyes firmly on Fang, who had slipped into the stream and waded until she swam before her, and much to the soldier's dismay, had also left her clothes behind in the grass._

_"Hey, hey," Fang urged her with those emerald islands of hers; all the while Lightning's were fighting the thought submerging - scathing the surface, even - and mortified - begging freedom from the craved indulgence of appreciative gazes, "What's got you spooked, Sunshine?" She looked into the soldier's eyes, the other woman's frantic little orbs dancing under the blatant curiosity hastily, darting around as Lightning searched for some means of escape._

_The water -_

It was cold; that was the first thing striking about this rude awakening - that, and the way the ground was steadily eclipsing the horizon line. "Ah!" the ex-soldier suddenly eeped, realizing that she had daydreamed their flight away since take off and the velocycle was quickly descending, approaching lethal speeds as earth's menacing texture expanded below her. A reminder of this was the vibrating hull of the small craft in flight, coupled with the stability indicator's incessant, chaotic chant, _beep-beep,_ which intensified as she reflexively jerked up on the controls, thus forcing the small ship into a gut wrenching loopty-loop. Her eyes wide with fear as the engine's previous whine erupted into a roar that shook the cabin with a vicious rage, Lightning's breath nearly left her; everything seemed to go dark for a moment as the world turned on its head in the crest of the loop, and the sheer power of the thrust tossed her up against her straining seatbelt. She looked down to her legs for comfort, which appeared to levitate - much like the rest of her body seemed content to do amidst this chaos - and she had to force herself to look away.

The clear, ice blue of sky on the either side of the floorboard seemed to blot out any and all consolations she could conjure for herself, and her palms quickly became well acquainted with the ceiling's purple hued surface. Her heart was racing as her fingers caught at the top of the craft, keeping her in place long enough for the sliding against her restraints to subside into a pummeling slam down to her seat, and once that movement had ceased, back into sliding again as the small vessel went for another climb. The vehicle was hurtling out of control.

Groping around dizzily to keep her own body within its restraints, Lightning's pulse hitched another gear; she thought only of Serah as the flying coffin around her punched the sky in a spiraling sweep. The girl was at her side on a wedding day, young and vibrant, witnessing renewed vows as a father and mother became newly weds again. She was on her arm, hand in hand as they walked the streets together, escaping the orphanage that imprisoned them after their parents passed in a tragic accident. She was in her embrace once more, flesh and blood, as she returned from the dead to walk among the living again. She was in Snow's care, shunned and feeling worthless, rejected by her only family in a fight against pride and betrothing. Most of all, she was in tears, forced to seek the oaf for comfort, all because of her only sister's fatal mistake – a shell of metal crunched end to end and ball of fire beside to tell the tale of a broken hero's martyrdom and the unfortunate death of a local bartender.

Somehow, over all the noise and catastrophe, she managed to feel warmth around her waist, and the drowsy, "Wha?" that she caught by her ear was enough to make her shaking hands grip the controls again, not regarding the winds that pulled her form against her will back into her prison; undoubtedly, as they began descending once more - the action slamming the both of them on their rears as the soldier struggled at the wheel to keep the nose above the horizon line - Lightning knew that Lebreau felt it too, the winds, the jarring pain at the base of the spine, and the absolute terror. With minuscule details of the city below them coming into place, the people who had been living out their daily lives below fleeing as they saw her hurtling towards the ground, and the sounds of alarm in the cockpit fading away, Lightning rolled the airbike out of its loop expertly, veering to the side to miss a rather expertly placed skyscraper - the only one built in Yacchas to this date since the settlement. Serah's workplace, not far from home, stood resolutely, almost defiant, behind her, and in the vague, tan dirt-scape, and the woman swore she saw a patch of pink on a sidewalk going the same direction as she.

The danger was over as quickly as she'd come to terms with it, and with trembling hands, Lightning set the small ship on auto-pilot, inputting her destination's coordinates as the machine before her prompted routinely – almost as if the trauma of the past five minutes had not been a focal point in regard to her longevity. Soon, no sooner than the craft had righted itself, and sooner than she had even realized possible, the forest dwelling she claimed as her own was coming into view, and the steppe over the horizon followed suit.

Faster than she imagined, she was home, and she was safe; Lebreau was alive and too out of it to really be shaken. As she hovered above her meager outpost, she sighed, at last quieting the thudding pulse that upset her chest. Relieved, she sat the craft down by the wooden porch, unbuckled herself for a quick exit from the cockpit, and went to unlock her door in the late afternoon air. She worried for the half-sleeping barmaid - drunken and drowsy as she was in the passenger seat, where she sat in half-sleep - briefly as she did so, too; occasionally, there would be a clueless gorgonopsid that found its way to her little enclave, only to be killed off and served up by Snow or herself - it would have been Fang that did such in earlier times - but she shook this thought out of her head before it could become too serious for her liking. The idea frightened her. With a patient sigh and a second of waiting for her head to clear, she pushed past the door, which opened with a _click _and groan; Lebreau was already following behind her, stumbling lightly past and into the kitchen, where she leaned over and rested her head on the cold tile surface of a a cool hued counter.

"Something to drink?" Lightning offered, vaguely remembering one last amenity she'd saved for the very last of the last; it was Serah's favorite - hers too - and for good reason. The red liquid awaited her in a drawer, not more than a foot from Lebreau's hand, which roamed white tile clumsily and without rhythm. Raising her head a tidbit, the bar maid nodded and showed herself to the couch, waiting as the soldier returned the gesture and moved to the cabinet. "Just a minute, then. Try to stay awake, alright?" She cast a sympathetic glance at the tired woman's form as it sprawled out on the soft couch, head propped up by a weak hand, and the image of exhaustion made all the more prominent by an even weaker nod. Lightning had no doubt that the lady would be dreaming before the first glass was ready.

As a light snore greeted her ears, she knew her assumption had been correct. Scooping the woman up in her arms and leaving the drink forgotten behind her, Lightning put her to bed in her room gently, and seeing her peaceful expression, joined her in the rumpled sheets.

* * *

_"Fang, you sure this apple's safe to eat?" Lightning asked, looking at the foreign, squealing fruit on the knife before her as if it were some sort of alien she'd mistakenly impaled in place of actual food when she'd plucked it from the fire; it would have wriggled, if not for the blade through its center._

"_The .. what?" Fang looked at her incredulously, then widened her eyes in understanding. "Oh, you mean that," she said, coming to take it from the woman and finish the job of killing it, since Lightning was undeniably confused, and she so obviously had made poor work of doing so, judging by its movements. "Here, hand it over," she commanded as lightly as she would to the likes of Hope or Vanille, and sauntered around._

_The champagne blonde appeared somehow skeptical about the situation; Fang chalked it up to the thought of herself doing any good will with a mysterious Pulse plant being improbable – hell, impractical even. The woman looked up to her with questioning, azure eyes. "So it's not an apple, then?" she asked, and Fang had the urge to bring Sherlock back from the dead and toss his name in the ring of hats for a change – not the best idea when directing home-world references to off-world people was a surefire way to checkerboard your reputation as a sane being._

_Fang sighed, knowing an explanation was due. "No Sunshine, it's not an appa .. er, an affal, a–" she ran her hands through her hair and grumbled in frustration at the foreign word, but went on. "Light, whatever an apearl, aplomb, abuelo – oh, forget it; you know what I'm talking about - is, this thing here's a malus, malus sylvestris. You can't just eat it straight outta the bush without choppin' it up good," she explained, "Wouldn't want to get choked - mischievous buggers." She laughed by the fireside as she grabbed the protesting plant away from a slightly dumbfounded soldier, plunging the knife deeper into the fruit, mutilating it, and slicing off a piece to eat. She offered this to Lightning, who, slightly shaken, refused it. "Your choice," she rolled her shoulders, "Guess you Cocoon folks'll just have to get used t'killin' whatcha eat."_

_"Oh." Lightning looked on in slight disapproval as Fang dealt with the food, opting for another of the fruits brought in from the day's scavenging. Once she discovered a certain plump, melony disc stubbornly wriggling below, tucked into Vanille's blanket, however, she decided against looking, even as harmless either Pulsian would insist that such was._

_Contently crunch-crunch-crunching away, Fang eyed her for a good minute. "Hey, somethin' wrong with the food? Is it smelly or something? Evil, maybe?" Concerned, yet still munching on the 'malus' fruit, which now was in pieces and lying obediently on her lap like any other apple was meant to do, the warrior peered over at the soldier from her vantage point on a log and hid her smirk._

_The lady huffed, annoyed that she still had not managed to find any food for her grumbling belly, "Oh, I dunno, just that I was raised to believe that plants weren't supposed to follow the 'eat anything that doesn't eat you first' rule, that's all." She stared back to Fang, who, without her knowledge, had moved to sit beside her, truly taking pity on the woman. _

_The warrior gave her a side-long glance and a shrug. "At least it's not some kind of Cocoon food. I _always_ ended up gaggin' on that filth tryin' to stomach it." _

"_Feh," the woman rolled her eyes, "Better than this self-righteous _Pulse_ food that thinks you're just as ripe for the pickings as it is."_

"Gran_ Pulse," Fang corrected without interrupting. Lightning found it amusing that _this_ was what the woman zeroed in on out of the entire statement and listened as she continued her corrections with, "and not only is the food here self-righteous and wanting to have you for dinner, but it's also one giant, indignant, stubborn shit; a likely end if you don't watch your bum out there, missy - no mercy." _

_Fang had to be kidding herself, at least, how soldier-girl saw it. "Oh please," the Farron elbowed her in the ribs, knocking a slice of burnt malus back to the fire, "Everyone knows you have a sweet spot for murderous things unworthy of all sympathy and past the point of tolerable return – Vanille, for example."_

"_What?" her adversary yelped in surprise at the jab and feigned actual pain. "You keep her out of this, Farron; no one ever mentioned you and your pedo-mom tendencies with Hope," she retorted jokingly in the mean time. Seeing Lightning's stone-faced farce of an angry expression wall itself around the woman's features at this, Fang erupted with a triumphant cry of, "So it _is_ true!" A chorus of laughter followed._

"_Hmph." Another eye-roll; Lightning turned away, flushed. _

_The sari-clad saboteur mocked, "Hmph?" A chuckle, "That's all I get outta you? Well aren't you a tease.." She laughed, "And here I thought we agreed there'd be no _malus_ between us." The Pulsian then spouted a series of chuckles at her own pun, which resulted in a quick, moderately unamused huff from her comrade._

"_Real funny, Fang. Pass me a grape," the woman ordered nonchalantly, pointing to the bunches of such on the other side of the warrior's leg._

_Fang's eyes went to said objects. "Oh, those? Not grapes, miss," she procured, surprisingly not stumbling over the words so horribly as she had before. That was good; perhaps she could sound like an educated twist of the knickers as she explained, "They're actually Farroncestius Supersmexiu- nevermind. Here." She plucked and offered a few to the other woman, who seemed to have taken no outward notice in regard to the questionable name._

_Lightning snatched one and rolled it between her fingers, examining, before popping the violet hued orb between her parted lips. "Not bad," she conceded, splitting the one that followed with her front teeth. The juice squirted from her mouth messily, a few drops sizzling as they hit flame. "Serah would like these."_

"_More?" Fang offered, looking on appreciatively as she stifled a 'with that name, no wonder,' along with a suppressed laugh._

_A hum, "Hmm, no. How about an orange?"_

_Fang had seen those on Cocoon somewhere – round things with tough skin that were, well, for lack of a better word, orange. "Valencias, hun," she supplied, and flicked one in the soldier's direction. It hit its intended target in the thigh and came to a stop, but wasn't taken._

_The woman at her side let out a shuddering sigh that sounded suspiciously like laughter, eyes set off on some object as Fang looked on in awe. "And I suppose those aren't cherries either."_

"_What?" _

"_Those – probably circumferus reddus-stickus, or lewdus tasty-thingus."_

_Again, "What?"_

"_Over there." Lightning pointed across the flames, where a bowl of red maraschinos shone in the flickering light, and back to her lips, where a naked pit was ejected into the fire, and a knotted stem stood perched out from straight teeth._

_Fang exhaled and shook her head with a grin, "Nope, just cherries."_

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To be continued...

A note I'd like to make, for the daydream sequence: The "hug" line isn't about Lightning being angry over any pity from Fang; in Japan, mention of a hug has connotations of sex. Lightning is pointing out that Fang is making her uncomfortable, but she's just being blunt/impolite about it. Anyway, thanks for the read, if you've gotten this far. I should update fairly soon, within the month if resuming school activities don't weigh me down.**  
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